What is an Artist?

One of the most rewarding—and exhausting—parts of being an artist is spending time with other artists. By nature, we are deeply insecure, often desperate for the approval of those around us. It’s why we struggle so hard to put our work into the world; every piece may as well be titled, “Look at Me.”

Yet, the life of an artist also demands a certain level of arrogance. We must believe not only that our work deserves to be seen, but that it is important. We aim to change the world, even if we have no idea what we’re changing it into. Spending time with someone so paradoxical is draining; our friends and loved ones are truly saints for putting up with us. On the other hand, artists are the most creative and interesting people you could ever meet. Our conversations—while often rambling and uncontrolled—are never boring. They contain a level of passion that "reasonable" people can only aspire to.

All of this leads to a question I’ve heard debated in galleries, Facebook groups, and Reddit threads: What is an artist?

From the outside, it sounds simple. If you make art, you’re an artist. Common sense suggests that if we looked it up in the dictionary, we’d find something equally straightforward. So, where does the conflict come from?

I believe it stems from that same mix of egotism and insecurity. We feel a compulsive need to "rank" our peers to reassure ourselves of our own legitimacy. A local leather crafter I respect recently told me her definition, and I can’t get it out of my head. According to her, a "real" artist works exclusively with oil, acrylic, or watercolor on a large scale. They must work in highly detailed realism or impressionism, and they must only paint subjects that speak to a profound personal story.

By her definition, almost everyone—including myself—is not an artist.

She is an extreme example, but I’ve heard versions of this gatekeeping in every corner of the community. Medium, scale, style—there is a never-ending list of reasons to exclude someone from the "club." My personal favorite (and the most common) is the financial metric: How much money do you make?

This seems absurd to me. The act of creating and the act of selling are two entirely different skill sets. Is there a specific dollar amount that transforms a "hobbyist" into an "artist"? Is it your first sale? A weekly paycheck? Does it have to be your sole income?

I have a modest following and a bit of respect in my local community, which I suppose qualifies me as much as anyone to offer an answer to this "importantly unimportant" question. So, with more ado than is probably warranted, here it is:

An artist is anyone who creates with passion.

The dictionary got it mostly right, but I believe the passion is the vital ingredient. Anyone can throw paint at a wall, but an artist does it with a drive for creation that imbues the work with meaning. Everything else—the rules, the rankings, the gatekeeping—is just a symptom of our shared insecurity and our desperate need to feel important.

I’m just a guy at a keyboard. My opinion shouldn’t dictate how you view yourself—and neither should anyone else's. So, I have one request for my fellow creators, artisans, and dreamers: Be kind to yourselves. Don’t let the opinions of the "gatekeepers" affect your worth. Create what you love, love what you do, and take pride in being an artist.